Sincerely
by GoldSilver02
Summary: He probably won't ever read the letter and that's okay with Beth, it really is. Because all she wants to do is thank him. Post Avengers. Steve/Beth the waitress
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer**: I own nothing._

_**Pairing**: Steve/Beth (the waitress, it's on her nametag, I swear!), allusions to others._

_**Summary**: He probably won't ever read the letter and that's okay with Beth, it really is. Because all she wants to do is thank him. Post Avengers. Steve/Beth (the waitress)_

_**Author's Note**: Post Avengers, will contain some spoilers for the movie. I hope you all like it. I'm not sure if I should continue this, so reviews are greatly appreciated, seriously, anything you guys have to say is important to me! Thanks for taking the time to read! Also, I apologize in advance for any mistakes!_

* * *

Sincerely

Part 1

"_We can't all be __**heroes**__, because somebody has to sit on the curb and applaud when they go by.__"_

Will Rogers

* * *

She doesn't know why she does it. It's not like she has anything to gain in doing this. Then again, it's not like she has anything to lose either. The thing is, her hands start to clam whenever she thinks about it. He heart starts to beat faster and she wonders how _no one_ seems to hear it. So, she leaves it for another day and hopes that she can gather the courage to actually _do_ it.

The rational part of her mind tries to convince her that it doesn't mean anything. That it's just something she can do to get it off her chest because _no one_, none of her friends, none of her professors, none of her co-workers want to hear about it. And she can understand that, she really truly can, except she _wants _to talk about it. She wants to talk about what happened. She wants to talk about the fear that gripped her; she wants to talk about that breathless moment when she was sure that she was going to die. She wants to talk about the not-so-masked Avenger who saved them all, who saved_ her_. She wants to talk about Captain America.

She doesn't want gush about him and how handsome he is (of course he is, he's _Captain America_), she wants to talk about how brave he is, how selfless he is, how completely heroic he is. She wants to talk about the lives he saved and she just…she wants to thank him.

When that news reporter shoved the microphone in front of her face, she was just coming off from the shock of almost dying. Her adrenaline was deteriorating and she could feel her sanity slip away from her fingers, she could feel anxiety and panic rear its ugly head and all she could think about was Captain America and how he saved them, saved _her_. So, she thanked him then but it wasn't enough, she doesn't think it will _ever_ be enough.

(After that interview, she left in a daze, only to collapse against a brick wall in an alley and then she started crying. Her hands were shaking and she could feel her entire body tremble with sobs and all she wanted was for someone to tell her that everything would be okay. No one ever did).

Its two weeks after the attack and life has somewhat gotten back to normal. She's back in classes, she's back to throwing herself into her studies and she takes as many shifts as possible at the diner. She needs the money, she needs the distraction and she won't lie, she holds on to a glimmer of hope that she may see Captain America. She never does but she never gives up hope either.

She's at the library on a Sunday night, trying to finish an assignment when she finds that she can't concentrate. So, she pushes her laptop away and grabs her notebook. She stares at the lined paper for a few moments, her hands start to sweat, her heart beats loudly and images of that day, of that horrific, whirlwind of a day swarm her thoughts.

She takes a deep breath and puts pen to paper.

* * *

There is a memorial down the street from where she lives. People go there to mourn for their friends and loved ones who died that day. People go there to find comfort; she goes there to remind herself that she's_ okay_. That despite the nightmares and despite the panic attacks that sometimes come out of nowhere, she's _okay_.

A little ways down, it stops being a memorial and starts to become a celebration. Paintings of the Avengers along with various cards, flowers, teddy bears celebrate the people who saved them all. She makes her way down and stands in front of Captain America. She sighs and looks at the envelope in her hand. She bends down, grabs a rock and places it on the envelope, letting it settle in between the sincere thanks of may before her and the many that will come after her.

He probably won't ever read the letter and that's okay with Beth, it really is. Because all she wants to do is thank him.

* * *

When he woke up, he woke up in a different New York than the one he knew and now…well, now, it's _more_ different. He was becoming used to the idea of being anonymous. He was okay with punching boxing bags until they ripped open and he was okay with watching the sand as it trickled out of the bag that he tore open. He was okay with not being known.

In fact, he liked it better that way.

In the past, no one really knew him because the mask did an _okay_ job with protecting his identity, but during the battle with the Chitauri, his mask was torn off and suddenly his face (his real face, not his masked face) is everywhere. And Steve, well Steve isn't sure what to think about it.

He still doesn't leave his loft, at least not unless he has to and when he does leave it, it's usually at night, where there's less chance to be recognized. He sometimes goes to see Stark and Banner. They live in Stark Towers, Tony is almost gleeful about making Bruce's floor completely Hulk-proof and Bruce just shrugs and says that Pepper told him there would be free food. Pepper for her part just rolls her eyes and tells Steve that they're like two children having a sleepover, except it's for 365 days a year.

He gets together with Natasha sometimes. The redhead usually just appears at his door and then makes herself at home. They don't usually talk. Instead, they usually just go to the gym and train with each other. He used to feel bad for hitting her, until she clocked him in the face and demanded that he fight. So, he fights with Natasha now but he always makes sure to reel in his strength.

He talks to Clint as often as he can. They mostly talk about baseball and sometimes he joins in with his and Natasha's training. Sometimes, they all get together at one of Tony's many houses and they eat and laugh. It's usually always awkward but it's getting easier to be in the same room together. They're starting to become more comfortable with each other.

(They toast to Coulson every time they eat together and leave a seat empty just for him).

Some nights though, Steve will make his way down to the memorial. He watches as the candles flicker out in the breeze and he studies every single picture of those lost. He memorizes every single victim's name and when he's feeling particularly dark and bitter, he hopes that Loki's punishment is painful, just so he can feel a _sliver_ of pain that everyone else is feeling. And sometimes though, sometimes, he'll make his way down the memorial path and he'll come to stop in front of the Avengers celebration area.

He still feels weird knowing that people actually admire him, that people actually want to be him. (Sometimes he wants to tell them that no, _no_, they _don't_ want to be him, they don't want to go through what he did).

Steve is observant, so he notices the difference right away. There is a plain white envelope beneath a rock. He frowns and bends down to grab the envelope. He tilts it towards the light of the moon and makes out the words on the envelope. _Captain America_.

Unfortunately, Steve has always been curious.

* * *

He's back in his loft, sitting on the couch, body slouched in front of the television with the lights on. He stares at the envelope, sighs and opens it hesitantly; wary of what could be in it. He frowns as he takes the folded papers out. When he straightens the pieces of paper, he can see that the writing is delicate, feminine.

He takes a deep breath and starts to read.

_Dear Captain America, _

_I know you probably won't ever read this and that's okay with me. It really is. I'm not writing this to get an answer back from you. I'm writing this, mostly for me, because there's something that I need to get off my chest. _

_Two weeks ago, I almost died. Two weeks ago, I started the day normally and by the end of it I was walking through a destroyed city. I don't know if you've ever had you're entire life ripped from underneath your feet, but on that day, two weeks ago, I did. The thing is, I almost died. Almost. But I didn't and it's because of you. _

_There are people who insult the Avengers and demand that they take responsibility for their actions but as far as I'm concerned, you did. You saved millions of people. Millions of people owe you and your friends their lives. I don't want to know what would have happened if you weren't around. I'd most likely be dead and that thought scares me. It continues to scare me when I wake up in the middle of the night, breathing hard and terrified from nightmares. _

_You see, Captain America, I've never believed in heroes. To me, they didn't exist because I've always thought the world was just filled with bad guys. That changed the day you barreled into my life. You probably don't even remember me and I'm okay with that, really I am, but I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for us, for me, that day. _

_So, I hope you don't mind me holding onto the memory of you when life gets hard for me. I hope you don't mind that its you I think about when I get panic attacks or when the nightmares get to be too much. I know that I'll probably never see you again so here it is, this is my admission, this is me telling you how much you mean not only to me but to the world. _

_Sincerely, _

_Beth Williams_

Steve lets out a deep breath he didn't realize he was holding and looks around his loft. Without thinking, he reaches over and grabs a notebook and pen from the table and starts to write.

* * *

_As if I really need to be doing this. As in, I really don't need to be doing this. It's been in my mind since I've seen the movie (twice). I just think that it would be cute. Or maybe not. If you all like it, I've got more planned. Let me know what you all think! I just really needed this out of my head, lol. _

_Reviews are very much appreciated and I will send you all lots of love, hugs and kisses! _

_Thanks!_

_Bex_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer**: I own nothing._

_**Pairing**: Steve/Beth (the waitress, it's on her nametag, I swear!), allusions to others._

_**Summary**: He probably won't ever read the letter and that's okay with Beth, it really is. Because all she wants to do is thank him. Post Avengers. Steve/Beth (the waitress)_

_**Author's Note**: Post Avengers, will contain some spoilers for the movie. I hope you all like it. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks for taking the time to read! Also, I apologize in advance for any mistakes!_

* * *

Sincerely

Part 2

"_To the world you may just be one person, but to one person you may be the world."_

Brandi Snyder

* * *

She wakes up late the next morning. She's hopping through her apartment, pulling on socks and trying to brush her teeth at the same time. She finally manages to finish both (without falling, she thinks she's getting better at multi-tasking). She yanks on a pair of well-faded jeans and a sweater, slips on her favorite sneakers, grabs an apple and her bag and she's out the door, mentally cursing herself for being late.

She locks her apartment door and flies down the stairs. She passes the mailman, Brent who smiles at her, brown eyes crinkling when he sees how disheveled she is. He thrusts her mail in her hand and wishes her luck. She can still hear him chuckling as she races out the front door, yelling her thanks.

(She doesn't see the man leaning away from the apartment building, walking in the opposite direction, hat on his head and sunglasses covering his eyes).

She manages to get to the subway in time (barely) and she takes a seat in the back next to an older woman who smells like baby powder. She's shoving her mail into her bag when she stops at a plain white envelope. She frowns when she sees it only has her name written on the front in elegant cursive writing.

She grips the envelope with both hands and her heart starts beating faster. She can't move, she feels immobile. She lets out a deep breath and feels her body jerk when the subway comes to a halt. Shoving the envelope into her bag, she gets up, smiles at the woman next to her and disappears into the throng of people, trying to get their lives back on track.

(The envelope burns a whole in her bag).

* * *

He doesn't know what makes him respond to the letter. By all means, he never should have. Contact with a civilian, contact with _anyone_ is a dangerous thing. But there's something about the letter, there's something about _Beth _that almost makes him feel human again. (He likes how she writes a letter, he can do letters, he _remembers_ when letters were the dominant form of communication).

He wakes up later than usual that morning but he makes his way across the city to her address (he looks her up in the telephone book) and sees the mailman about to walk in. He hands him the letter, smiles apologetically and asks him to give it to Beth Williams. The mailman shrugs, says of course and goes inside.

Steve adjusts his glasses and hat and leans against the apartment complex. New York City is bustling, with more people than the 1940s but less people than there was a month ago. His heart clenches. His soul hurts. He wonders how many people he's walked past today that have lost a loved one. He wonders how many of them are lost, hoping for something more, something _other_ than this constant reminder about how their lives have been shattered. _Destroyed_.

(And he marvels at their strength, at their will to keep living when it seems like everything is ending).

He leans away from the building and walks down the street.

(He doesn't see the young woman rush out of the apartment complex, blonde hair loose, left hand clutching an apple and right hand clutching a stack of envelopes, feet carrying her in the opposite direction, to the subway).

* * *

He walks into a business building, takes the elevator to the bottom floor, has to go through a labyrinth of retinal scans and finger scanning until he comes to another elevator and he takes that one to the bottom as well. Even before it opens, he hears the people before he sees them. Everyone has their own thing to do, walking with files in their hands, talking back and forth, lingo and acronyms flying over his head.

He nods at the people he knows, smiles lightly at those he doesn't.

"You're later than usual." Natasha says as she falls into step next to him.

He jumps, of course he jumps, he never knows where she is, until she's standing right next to him. "I had something to do." He says.

"Mhmm." She's wearing a secret little smile (that isn't really even a smile, more like a tug of the lips) and he wonders idly if she knows.

Then he decides that there's nothing to know, at least not really.

Because if Steve is honest to himself, he wants a _friend. _Not an agent, not someone who's been transformed from a serum or from a different realm or who've been trained assassins since they were kids; no, Steve wants a _normal_ friend.

Steve thinks that Beth can be the friend he wants and desperately needs.

* * *

She's at the diner. Beth is usually always at the diner. Not that she minds, it's a way to clear her mind. It's a way for her to stop thinking and just…_do_. It's easy for her to get lost in her customers lives. She listens to them as they talk about the weather and talk about the economy, she listens to them as they talk to each other, smiling lightly when one of them cracks a joke and the other laughs as if it's the funniest thing they've heard in a long while.

Beth doesn't mind working. She doesn't mind getting lost in the lives of her customers because for those couple of hours, she's _part_ of their lives. For those couple of hours, she shares jokes and laughs with people that she'll most likely never see again. For Beth, working at the diner gives her hope that no matter what happens, no matter what comes their way, people overcome. People move on, never forgetting what happened but rather, moving past it.

She closes down the diner and the owner waves her off, tells her to be safe and that he'll see her tomorrow. Beth nods, shouts her goodbyes and walks into the night.

It saddens her that the city isn't as busy as it was before the attack happened. There are hardly any cars on the roads, hardly any people littering the sidewalks in large groups, laughing loudly and letting their voices echo throughout the city. No, this city, her city, her _home_, has quieted down. Sometimes, she'll catch glimpses of the city it used to be in the mornings on her way to school and at night, she'll wonder if it was all just an illusion, something that she made up to comfort her on the lonely walk home.

She sighs, runs a hand through her hair and pulls her jacket closer to her body. It's not a far walk to her apartment and she's thankful for that because between running to catch the subway, her classes and a shift at the diner, Beth's feet are _killing_ her. She walks into the apartment complex and hurries up the stairs. She unlocks her door as soon as she gets to it and doesn't waste any time walking in and locking the door behind her.

Throwing her bag on the floor and her jacket on the arm of the couch, Beth falls onto the couch, kicks off her shoes and takes a deep breath. She reaches to the side and pulls her bag towards her, taking out her books and binders. She still has assignments to do and an essay to _start_. Her mind is going through everything that needs to be done when a stack of envelopes fall out of her bag.

Her breath hitches as she stares at the one plain envelope, no stamp, no postage, just a name, _her_ name in elegant cursive writing. She grabs it with shaky hands and opens it.

She lets out the breath she didn't realize she was holding and leans back against the couch.

_Dear Miss Williams, _

_Two weeks ago, I did not want anything to do with this. To be honest, I did not even know what was happening. I believe I was content where I was, hiding from the world. Your letter tells me that I, we, made the right choice. _

_Your faith in the Avengers and myself is astounding. You tell me that you would be dead were it not for me, but I do not believe that is the case. My gut tells me that you would have survived one way or another, because this is what you do, you wake up in the morning and you make choices and you survive. For this alone, you have my utmost respect. You tell me that two weeks ago, you could have died, but the fact that you are writing me a letter, thanking me for what I did, proves to me that you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. _

_You tell me that you do not believe in heroes, I grew up believing in heroes. To me, you are the hero because you fight past your nightmares and you fight past your demons that continue to haunt you and you live. You continue to get up each morning and you go about your routine and make choices that will forever affect your life. You have not given up on humanity and that is what a true hero is made of. _

_You are right when you say that I do not remember you and I apologize for it. I want to, I really want to remember you but for now, I think these letters will be good enough. _

_Miss Williams, I do not have many friends. I have my team members but no one on the outside, no one to help me realize that no matter what happens, no matter what comes our way, people, humanity will always overcome any and all obstacles._

_I am honored that you think of me in your time of need, that I am a hope you cling to when your nightmares become overwhelming, so I am asking the same of you. If it's all right with you, I would very much appreciate the correspondence. I would very much appreciate a friend. If you agree to this, I will look for your next letter tomorrow night at the same spot as I found the first._

_You thank me for saving you and I thank you for your belief in me. _

_Sincerely, _

_Captain America. _

Beth takes a deep breath, smiles through her rapidly beating heart, grabs a notebook and a pen and starts writing.

* * *

_Okay, so I'm going to continue this. I hope, it ends up being good. Or maybe it'll be bad. I'm not sure. I have an outline, I know where I'm taking this, so hopefully you will all like it. It's hard writing from Captain America's perspective but rest assured, it will (hopefully, fingers crossed) get easier with passing letters. _

_Also, HUGE SHOUTOUT to my reviewers, ohmygod, you guys are amazing: __**Wandringstar, Jelsemium, NinjaTerra, Wing Darkness, IcyWaters, DarkRuleKida, SuoSopuli28, snowspell, Amekoryuu, Itsgoose2u, BlackRoseSophie, Draceline, SingularToast**__ and __**Spiffymac617**__._

_You are all awesome and I apologize if I missed anyone. _

_Thanks!_

**Bex**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer**: I own nothing._

_**Pairing**: Steve/Beth (the waitress, it's on her nametag, I swear!), allusions to others._

_**Summary**: He probably won't ever read the letter and that's okay with Beth, it really is. Because all she wants to do is thank him. Post Avengers. Steve/Beth (the waitress)_

_**Author's Note**: Post Avengers, will contain some spoilers for the movie. I hope you all like it. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks for taking the time to read! Also, I apologize in advance for any mistakes!_

* * *

Sincerely

Part 3

"_More than kisses, letters mingle souls."_

John Donne

* * *

_Dear Captain America,_

_So, what do you like to do in your spare time, when you're not saving the world? Who is the man behind the hero? _

_Sincerely, _

_Beth Williams_

_P.S. Please call me Beth. Miss Williams makes me sound like my mother._

* * *

She thinks she may be crossing a line when she asks him who he really is. But then again, she is his friend, right? How is she supposed be a friend, let alone a good one, if she doesn't know who she's talking to. True, she's talking to Captain America and probably every girl in the world would like to talk to him, but she doesn't want to just talk to _Captain America_. She wants to talk to the_ man _that is Captain America. She wants to know who the man behind the mask is. She wants to know what he likes and dislikes. She wants to know what music he listens to. What sports he likes to watch and play. She wants to know _him_.

She doesn't think she's asking too much. Then again, this is the first time she's communicating with a famous person, so she's not exactly sure what _too much_ is.

She usually writes her letters at school, when she's hiding in a cubicle in the back of library, body shielded with shelves of books. She finds she can think easier, clearer, when she's in the library. It's probably because no one bothers her in the library. Everyone is in their own world, immersed in their own studies that they don't really look at the young woman crouched low in her chair, notebook balanced on her knees and thoughtful expression on her face. She's just another student trying to gain some sort of semblance in a world that exploded and pieced itself together.

There is nothing extraordinary about her. Nothing to warrant unwanted attention. She goes to her classes, she does her assignments, she works at the diner, she studies, she writes letters to Captain America.

No, Beth Williams is _not_ extraordinary. She's just a young woman trying to get by in a world that is forever changing. She's never really done anything exciting, except for when she moved to New York for University. She's a little bit socially awkward, a little bit shy, but if there's one thing that Beth knows she's good at, it's keeping secrets. So, she takes the letters Captain America sends her and she keeps them locked up tight in her heart, in her _soul_, and quietly promises to keep them her little secret.

It's the least she can do for the man who saved them, saved _her._

(It's the least she can do for the man who unwittingly _continues_ to save her).

* * *

It's raining. It's not even a light rain but the heavy type of rain that almost feels like hail. Big drops fall on her umbrella as she walks towards the diner. It's not a long walk from her apartment to the diner, and she decides to brave the rain. Opening her umbrella, she steps underneath it and starts walking.

_It smells like spring_, she thinks as she makes her way to the diner. She can almost feel the flowers bloom; she can almost smell the changing of seasons. Her grandmother always told her that spring was the time for rebirth, a time where everything breaks from the chokehold winter had. Beth never feels it more than she does in this moment. In walking from her apartment to the diner, Beth feels it in the air around her; she feels it as people hurry past her, laughter ringing as they try to avoid puddles.

She shakes her umbrella as she closes it, ensuring she has flushed out any excess water. She greets the owner who shakes his head teasingly at her. She wraps her apron around her waist and lets out a small sigh. She's going to be here for a while. Pulling a double shift, because another waitress came down with the flu. Beth doesn't mind. She likes the diner. She likes the owner who teases her and makes sure that she always has something to take home with her. She likes the other waiters and waitresses who treat her like a friend and who share conspiratorial smiles with her. She likes her customers.

Her heart clenches painfully when she thinks that everything could be different. Her nightmares haven't gone away, she's starting to believe that they're _never_ going to go away. Instead, she takes a deep breath, throws herself into work and school and pleads for a moment of peace from her thoughts and memories.

Her mother worries about her, her grandparents worry about her, her older brother worries about her. She's alone in the city, the rest of her family living in Tacoma, but she's not giving up her schooling. She's _almost _there, the finish line is almost there and she's so close that she doesn't have the heart, or the courage to drop everything and run back home. Why should she? Because an alien attack occurred? _She_ hasn't lost anyone. She hasn't had to feel the immense pain of having her life uprooted like other people have. So, she has nightmares, she's positive that nearly everyone else in the city has nightmares too.

So, she smiles and barrels through the day, because that's _all she can do_.

* * *

She's been on her feet for twelve hours before the owner finally shoos her out. He thrusts a take-out box in her hand and demands that she eats, and _don't forget to drink water_…_and no vitamin water doesn't count, Beth_. She smiles, takes the box gratefully and tucks her umbrella under her arm as she walks out the door.

It's stopped raining but it's starting to get dark. She adjusts her jacket and walks towards her apartment. It doesn't take her long and she's turning the corner to her street when she shoulders someone. She stumbles, her umbrella falls and a large strong hand grabs her and sets her upright. She's smiling gratefully, "sorry." She says, "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"It was my fault." His voice is deep and masculine; he's wearing a hat and sunglasses. "Are you alright?"

She's staring at him, there is something familiar about him. Something about his voice, about the way he stands, the way he holds himself. "I'm fine. Thanks."

He gives her a smile and a nod of the head, bends down to pick up her umbrella and hands it to her. Then he walks past her with a quiet "goodnight."

She's still standing in the same spot, trying to figure out why he seems so familiar to her. Then she sighs, blows a loose strand of hair from her face and walks into the apartment complex.

She goes to her mailbox, places her umbrella against the wall and opens it. There is a plain white envelope waiting for her, her name in elegant cursive writing. She holds it close to her body as she closes the small metal box and walks up the stairs to her apartment. She opens the door and steps into it quickly, placing her umbrella in the stand, taking off her sneakers, placing her food on the table and shrugging off her jacket.

She sinks onto her couch and opens the letter.

So, she has nightmares, everyone has nightmares, but now, when she wakes up trembling from fear and gasping for breath, she reaches over to her bedside table, takes out those few precious letters and reads them against the moonlight. Each word, each elegant swoop of letters, burning an everlasting impression in her mind, in her heart, in her _soul_.

(She'll sometimes fall back asleep, hands clutching the letters close to her body. She doesn't have any nightmares after that).

* * *

_Dear Beth,_

_I like watching baseball. My favorite team is the Dodgers. I enjoy drawing. I like listening to old music, music that has long since been dead, Jazz, Swing, even the Blues. I enjoy old black and white movies…I'm an old soul. I prefer things the way they were, the way things used to be. _

_To be honest, I don't really know who the man behind the hero is. I think I'm just used to being the supposed hero. It's been a while since anyone has actually cared about me. _

_And yourself? What do you like doing in your spare time? What do you enjoy?_

_Sincerely, _

_Captain America._

_P.S. You can call me Steve. After all, we are friends._

* * *

_Steve_, the name flows off her tongue fluidly, as if she was born to say it.

* * *

It's almost dark when he goes to drop off the letter at the apartment. It's finally stopped raining and Steve puts on his hat and sunglasses and walks to the apartment. He grabs the subway to get into the city and from there it's a fifteen-minute walk. He keeps his sunglasses and hat on. He doesn't like being exposed and his mask always kept his identity hidden from everyone, so he's pretty sure that he's gotten used to hiding.

He misses it. The autonomy. People not knowing who he is. Even though he never got out much before, when he did, he never ran the risk of being recognized. Now…now, he doesn't even _want_ to risk it. So, he takes precautions and makes sure that it's not easy to spot him.

He sighs and holds the letter in his hands. _Beth. Beth Williams_. The name flows so smoothly, both when he says it aloud and when he writes it on the envelope. It seems like such a long time that someone actually wanted to get to know him. Not Captain America but him, _Steve_. The last person, let alone woman, that wanted to get to know him was Peggy. His heart clenches. _Oh, Peggy_.

He foolishly hoped when he woke up that she would still be alive. Even though he knew she'd be old, all he wanted was to see her. She wasn't alive. She had died one year earlier. He went to her grave. Fury told him that she was happy. She got married, had children, had grandchildren. She lived the life that Steve _wants_ to live. He supposes that he'll never let go of his old school traditions. Of his old dreams.

(Tony mocks him for it. Tony mocks him for everything. Then Bruce will always say something smart and Tony will gape like a fish for a moment, mouth wide and a fake hurt expression on his face. It's gone the moment Pepper comes in and he complains to her that he's being bullied, by _Captain America_ and the _Jolly Green Giant_ of all people. Pepper will cock an eyebrow and hand him a folder with papers he needs to sign).

He won't lie, sometimes Steve feels left out. Tony has Bruce to talk science with. Natasha has Clint to do everything with. Thor has Jane. And Steve? Well, Steve has his memories of a life long since gone.

He opens the door to the complex and automatically makes his way to the small metal box at the end. It has her name written in block letters and he slips it through the small opening. He turns around and walks out, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. He's turning the corner, head down when he bumps into someone.

The person is tinier than him. He can hear a surprised yelp that is distinctly feminine and he instantly feels horrible. She stumbles, umbrella falling and he reaches out quickly and grabs her arm, righting her. "Sorry," she says, "I wasn't watching where I was going."

He looks down at her through his dark glasses. She looks vaguely familiar; there is a tingling feeling in the pit of his stomach. She's blonde, her hair falling from her loose ponytail. Her eyes are chocolate brown and she's holding a takeout box in her hands. "It was my fault. Are you all right?"

She nods, "I'm fine, thanks."

There's something _so _familiar about her voice. He knows that he should recognize it and for some reason he feels guilty that he doesn't. He stares at her, mind reeling, trying to place her face among the millions that he's seen. He comes up empty. He finds that too many faces start to blend together. He nods, gives her a smile, bends down to grab her umbrella, hands it to her and walks past her, "goodnight," falling quietly from his lips.

(The feeling in the pit of his stomach follows him back to his loft in Brooklyn).

* * *

Natasha is at his loft, sitting comfortably on the couch when he walks in. She has her feet propped on the coffee table, a beer in one hand and his letters (_Beth's_ letters) in the other hand. She looks up at him when he walks in, expression blank. He doesn't know what she's thinking, doesn't _ever_ know what he's thinking but he knows he feels some kind of fury at her for reading his letters. "Who's Beth?" She asks, her voice normal.

"A friend." Steve answers tightly. "You had no right to read them."

She nods, her red hair moving as her head bobs. "You're right, but they were on your table, in plain view and well, there's nothing on television." There is a slight pause. "She's a civilian."

"She's a friend." He repeats as he takes a seat next to her.

She stares at him for some time, eyes searching his. Then she leans back, smiling sadly. "Oh, Cap, you're really lonely here, aren't you?"

"I just…I just want to be _Steve_ for a little bit and Beth…she's…she seems to be the only one who's willing to get to know me for Steve. Not for Captain America." It's not the best of explanations but it's the only one he's got.

Natasha brings the beer to her lips once room and looks up at the ceiling. "She seems nice."

It's as close to understanding that he's going to get.

* * *

Later when Natasha leaves, Steve stays up, sitting on the couch, staring at the letters on the table. He's read them nearly a dozen times. The words etched permanently in his mind.

_Who is the man behind the hero?_

He doesn't know. But he likes that she's willing to find out.

* * *

_Sooo…..what do you all think? I'm starting to really like writing this story. Hopefully, you all like it too._

_**HUGE SHOUTOUT**__ to my __**AWESOME **__reviewers!: __**SingularToast, actressen, Itsgoose2u, Draceline, DarkRuleKida, BTownGirl, PhantomProducer, vampyfreak, NinjaTerra, IcyWaters, Taniwha Talon, SuoSopuli28, garnet86, Wandringstar, Clevernugget, sabrinaa-xo**__ and __**The Hooded Falcon**__. You are all amazing! I apologize profusely if I missed anyone!_

_Thanks!_

_**Bex**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer**: I own nothing._

_**Pairing**: Steve/Beth (the waitress, it's on her nametag, I swear!), allusions to others._

_**Summary**: He probably won't ever read the letter and that's okay with Beth, it really is. Because all she wants to do is thank him. Post Avengers. Steve/Beth (the waitress)_

_**Author's Note**: Post Avengers, will contain some spoilers for the movie. I hope you all like it. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks for taking the time to read! Also, I apologize in advance for any mistakes!_

* * *

Sincerely

Part 4

"_Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend."_

Albert Camus

* * *

Beth isn't popular. She doesn't have many friends in New York City, she has a few acquaintances, classmates that she waves to and makes small talk with. But she doesn't really have any _friends_. It doesn't bother her. At least she never thought it did. She was always an odd girl growing up, always preferring art to human companionship. She was never invited to any parties back home, she went to Prom with a guy in her art class because he was nice and liked Degas. He didn't talk to her and she left half way through it, she didn't even bother looking back at the banquet hall full of people reminiscing about good times.

So, she went into University expecting the same thing. She ended up getting the same thing. At least she has a good reason. University is hard, art history is even harder, so she concentrates on her studies more than she concentrates on the people around her.

It's not that she ignores them, she talks when she has something to say and she's gotten over her original shyness when it comes to group assignments, but she doesn't really consider her group members her friends. Acquaintances of course…but _friends_? It never really crossed her mind and she was okay with that. Beth is okay with a lot of things. So, it comes as a surprise to her when, after a particular exhausting group project comes to a close, they invite her to come out with them. _We're just going for a couple of drinks_, _come on_, _we definitely deserve it_. She shrugs, says _okay_, because they're her peers.

(In the back of her mind, she thinks about the letter to Steve that she's aching to write).

* * *

It starts off good. They're good people. They're smart people. They're at a bar in the bottom of a club; Beth nearly chokes on the smoke (didn't they ban smoking indoors?) and orders a gin and tonic. She's not a heavy drinker, finds that she doesn't like the taste of it all that much. There is a man with a guitar on the stage, the strings playing a melody that Beth doesn't know but his voice is nice. Its deep, baritone and soothing.

She contributes to the conversation, mostly about her courses and the assignments that take all her energy and the papers that leave her near insomnia. She's excited to graduate. They're all excited to graduate. (This they can agree on).

She doesn't know how, doesn't really know _why_, but the conversation shifts from school to politics and they end up on the topic of the Avengers. Beth can feel her heart thump loudly against her chest. She feels her stomach erupt in butterflies and she suddenly feels claustrophobic.

There is an outspoken female, Mary, in the group, who is staunchly against the Avengers initiative and everything they stand for. Beth frowns as she listens to the rant and looks around, only to see eyes glancing at their table, their eavesdropping evident. "In actuality, they're a bunch of costume wearing entitled assholes who destroyed our city and sent us deeper in debt. Not to mention they're all male."

The only male, Derek, shakes his head. "There's the Black Widow."

"Oh yeah, a woman that wears a leather suit. As if the years of feminism don't count, now women are back to being exploited. You honestly expect me to believe that a bunch of masked crusaders were the ones who could save our city from a fucking _alien_ invasion? It's a publicity stunt. Mark my words, it's _all publicity_."

"Were you in the city when it happened?" Beth asks before she can stop the words coming from her mouth.

"What?" The girl asks loudly.

"When the attack happened. Were you in the city?" Beth repeats, she can feel her face grow hot but there is something growing in the pit of her stomach, something lighting her entire being that makes her want to defend the Avengers. That makes her want to defend Captain America, _Steve_.

"I was in Boston visiting my family."

Beth nods, her fingers playing with the edge of the table, she takes a deep breath and looks at Mary in the eyes. "Then you have no idea what you're talking about." She shakes her head, "I'm not saying that you're not right, everyone is entitled to their own opinion but you weren't here. I was. I was right in the _middle_ of it. I watched cars get blown up. I watched the sky split open and watched as these_ things_ flew out and blew everything up. I watched people get thrown into buildings. I watched them _die_. Do you know what its like to be so terrified that you forget to breathe? It's a horrible feeling."

"Obviously, you're not the only one."

"I almost died. The aliens, which trust me, that's exactly what they were, were going to kill us. They were going to blow us up but they didn't because Captain America risked his life to save us. He saved _me_. They all risked their lives to save us. You don't like the Avengers, that's fine, a lot of people don't, but I'm going to guess that most do and even more of them are thankful because if they didn't come, if they ignored the fact that the world was at stake, we probably wouldn't even be sitting at this table having this discussion. We could all be dead or slaves to another race."

"Look, it sucks that you had to go through what you did, but I don't see the justification in having some self-entitled asshole like Captain America become a supposed _hero_."

Beth thinks it's the insult to Steve and everything he does that breaks the straw. She gets up, grabs her bag and pulls it over her head, situating it on her shoulder. She takes a deep breath, "Captain America, Black Widow, Iron Man, _all of them_ are heroes. They didn't have to do this. They didn't have to save us but they did. They gave you back your life. The least you can do is be thankful. Also, Mary, I can take a lot of things, but what I can't take is you insulting Captain America." She can feel herself trembling and she doesn't know why, but she gives Derek a small smile and tells Lucy (who was silent during the entire exchange) that she'll see her tomorrow morning, ignores the stares and whispers of the eavesdroppers and leaves the smoke-filled club behind her.

Beth realizes as soon as she gasps in fresh air, why she steadily avoided human contact; she never really fit in anywhere.

(This thought oddly makes her think of Steve).

* * *

She's exhausted both mentally and physically by the time she gets out of the club and outside. It's a crisp night, the air slightly chilly but nothing too cold. Beth sighs, and walks down the street. She sees a bench and slides onto it, she's sitting underneath a streetlamp and she decides that it's as good a place as any to write her letter. She pulls her bag over her head and opens it, grabbing her notebook and a pen. She pulls her hair into a bun and sits cross-legged on the bench, angling her knees so the light is directly on the paper.

Then she starts writing.

She doesn't know how long she writes for. All she knows is that her hand begins to cramp, so she skims through the letter and signs her name. She folds it, puts it into an envelope (after his first response she went out and bought a stack of envelope and never takes it out of her bag), cringes as she licks it and makes sure that its sealed tight. (This is _her _version of confidential information. This is _their_ top-secret mission).

She knows this part of New York City, she lives in this part of New York City, so it doesn't take her long to walk to her spot. There are some people mingling around, some begging change, others just hanging around. She keeps her head down and most of the time people don't bother her. Each too busy with their own lives to care about her.

She stops in front of her designated spot and places the letter under the rock, shoves her hands in her jacket pockets and stares at Captain America's picture. He has his mask on but Beth knows, she just _knows_ that she'd be able to recognize him if she saw him without his mask.

(His face is ingrained her mind, her heart, her_ soul_).

She's not tired, so she walks around and cocks her head to the left. _Huh_, she's back where she started, at the bench underneath the lamplight so she slides back into her previous place, tilts her head back and for the first time in a very long time, she stares at the night sky with its million twinkling stars.

(She'll never admit, but it takes her breath away and she's never been so _thankful _to be alive than in this moment).

* * *

_Dear Steve, _

_I got into a fight earlier tonight. Well, I suppose it wasn't really a fight so much as a disagreement. It was about you. About the Avengers but I think I snapped when she insulted you. I'm not one for conflicts, I like staying on the sidelines, I guess you could say that I'm an observer that way, but I don't think I've ever felt that much…rage in a long time. Defending what you do, defending you, I think it's become second nature to me and that scares me. _

_A month ago, if someone told me that I would be in a quasi-bar with actual people and getting into an argument with one of my group members, I think I would have laughed. Or maybe thought they were crazy, as it stands, it happened and I think I'm losing my grip on who I am. Does this usually happen? Do you think this is me lashing out or is it just my way of dealing with what happened?_

_The thing is, I have to look these people in the face tomorrow and the days after because we're in the same program and I don't know how they're going to react to me. They're not my friends per se but they were acquaintances. They helped me when I needed it. They're my group members. Will this change my relationship with them? Will they look at me differently? I've been so used to being that girl on the sidelines that I don't know how to be anyone else. In the past, I would have let it go. I wouldn't have said anything but I found that I couldn't say not say something. _

_You should have seen me. I thought I was going to burst. My heart was beating so fast, my hands were clammy, my stomach was churning and I felt myself burn. Is this me changing? Am I changing? I don't think I want to. I'm a discreet person. I like art. I like looking and studying paintings. I like reading. I like writing letters to you. I…I don't want to lose any of that. _

_You told me in your last that you don't know who the man behind the hero is, well, I'm starting to lose my sense of self too…maybe we can meet each other in the middle and find our ways back together? _

_Sincerely, _

_Beth Williams_

* * *

The night is cool as Steve walks out of his loft. There's no need for disguises this time of night, it's dark and not even the bright moon can illuminate who he really is. Instead, he just zips up his jacket all the way to his chin, stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks the familiar path to the memorial.

He notices more people than there was the night before, and the night before that. He can see remnants of the old New York City make it way back into the lives of everyday citizens. He can almost see them piecing themselves together with every loud ring of laughter that echoes throughout the night. He can see it with people stumbling out of bars and clubs, halfway to intoxication but having a good time. Steve won't begrudge them this. If anything, they _deserve_ this. Their resilience is palpable.

He shakes his head and hides a small smile. The atmosphere is electric. The city is coming alive and Steve thinks, _this is how it used to be, this is how it is supposed to be_.

Before he knows it, his feet have led him to the memorial and he stands before it, staring at his picture but more prominently, staring at the plain white envelope underneath a rock. He bends down, grabs it and holds it carefully in his hands. He can't help the smile that graces his lips, doesn't think he needs to help it. Beth's letters are his only link to sanity.

(Her letters are his only link to himself).

So, Steve puts the letter in his pocket and walks back to the loft.

* * *

He decides to take the longer way back. He doesn't really have a reason for it. All he knows is that the night is nice, the moon is bright and the sky is lit up with stars. For a moment, he looks up and wonders about Thor. Wonders how he's doing. Wonders what became of Loki. If Jane likes Asgard as much as Thor hoped she would. He sends up a silent thought to his friend in the sky and hopes for his sake that he's happy.

As he's walking he walks by a bench, underneath a streetlamp with a body curled lounged across it. Steve frowns. He can see blonde hair as he approaches. He slows down; he's not sure what to do in this situation. Does he keep walking? Does he ask her what she's doing out at night? His mind screams at him to keep walking, but there is something that pulls him to the body on the bench. Something that makes his heart skip a beat.

"Excuse me?" He calls out softly, as if afraid of terrifying the person.

The head tilts backwards at an uncomfortable angle. For a moment, just a moment, Steve is worried that he'll be recognized. But it's dark and the night is his only cover. "I don't have any change." She sighs (there's something so familiar in her voice).

"Wasn't going to ask for it. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

She lets out a small laugh and sits up, rubbing her hands together, "oh yeah, I'm fine. It's just…a nice night. I decided to just…look at the sky."

Steve smiles and shifts his feet. "It is a nice night. Regardless, you should still be careful."

She lets out a small snort and grabs her bag. She gets up and stretches. "My brother taught me how to pack a punch, I'm pretty good." She pulls the strap over her head and adjusts her bag, "besides, ever since the alien attack, well, the city hasn't been the same."

"But it's getting there." Steve says, thinking back to all the people he passed. His hand automatically goes to the letter in his pocket.

She nods, a bit hesitantly, as if she doesn't truly believe and then she pushes her hair out of her face. There are dozen pictures that suddenly flood his mind and Steve doesn't know what to make of them. She looks and sounds so familiar, as if he should know who she is without having to guess or without having to wonder. "Right, well, I'm off that way." She says, pointing past him.

"I'm that way." He says pointing past her.

They make their way past each other, heads down and in the opposite direction of one another. He is past the lamplight when he hears her call out, "hey!" He turns his body a little to look at her, she bites her lips and shrugs, "Do you think there's…anything up there?" Her index finger points to the starry sky. "It's just,_ I_ just spent the better part of a half-hour talking to air, which really isn't any better than what I'm doing now, because I'm talking to a guy who I can't even _see_ properly but…I just want to know if I'm plain crazy or if _maybe_ there's a chance someone, _something_ is listening."

There is a sort of desperation in her voice that tugs at Steve's heart. She sounds so young, sounds so lost and oddly, he can almost picture that comment coming out of Beth's mouth (even though he acknowledges that he doesn't even_ know_ what Beth looks like). But he smiles and nods, "I think there's always someone listening." He thinks of Thor somewhere in the sky.

Even in the darkness, he can see her smile. "Goodnight." She says, as she turns around and walks away.

"Goodnight." He replies, his response echoing in the night.

* * *

(Later that night, when Beth is at home, wrapped in her blanket and staring at the night sky from her bed, she'll think of the stranger that humored her for five minutes. She'll think of his familiar voice and the familiar tilt of his body. But she doesn't even think about the familiar white envelope, shrouded in darkness, poking out from his jacket pocket).

* * *

_Dear Beth, _

_Everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion. Your friend gave hers and you gave yours. If they treat you any differently for it, than they're just intimidated that you questioned them. You're an intelligent woman. You know what you believe in and how you feel and there is nothing wrong with making it known. _

_There are only a handful of people that have defended me in my life and I cannot tell you enough how much your support means to me. Growing up, I had one best friend. One. I lost him years ago but not a day goes by that I don't think of him. I don't think I have had a friend like that since him. I do not think I realized how lonely I am, despite being surrounded by the Avengers. Your letters…give me a sense of hope. _

_You will not lose yourself. You will not lose who you are. You have spent your entire life becoming the person you are today and everything you have been through, everything that you continue to go through, will make you into the person that you want to become. There are always going to be people who argue and challenge you and you will always respond because it is what you do. You defend those who mean something to you. _

_One day, Beth, you are going to realize what an amazing person you truly are and until that day comes, I have no problem meeting you in the middle. It is a difficult world and everyone can use a friend to make their way through. _

_So, even though I lost my best friend years ago, I seem to have gained one in you and I do not think you know how much that means to me. Because it means a lot. _

_Sincerely, _

_Steve_

* * *

He gets the call as soon as he seals the envelope.

He's still uncomfortable with cell phones and it takes him a moment to answer it. "Hello?" He says.

"_Cap."_ Fury's voice is clear through the line but there is an underlining worry. _"We've got an issue in Russia."_

"What kind of issue?" He asks as he pulls on his jacket.

"_The kind that I can't discuss over the phone and the kind that involves all of you."_ Fury says.

"I'm on my way."

He slips into his sneakers and all but flies out of his loft.

(The sealed envelope lies on the table).

* * *

_Sigh. I don't know what to think about this chapter. I like it but hate it and I rewrote about three times until I've finally settled on this version. I hope you all like it. Also, just a heads up, I think there's going to be like three more chapters until I bring this story to a close. I think. That's what I'm aiming for, so we'll see. Knowing me, I'll probably change my mind. LOL. _

_Um…so the support for this story is overwhelming and ohmygod, you guys are amazing. Seriously, you are all so amazing. Words cannot even describe how much your support and reviews mean to me. I hope that this chapter doesn't disappoint and if it does, I apologize a trillion times. That being said, a HUGE SHOUTOUT to my AMAZING REVIEWERS!: __**DarkRulerKida, spiffymac0617, wandringstar, thecatchisdeadliest, sudoku, Clevernugget, garnet86,OHDGHKDTN, It'sFun2BCrazy, MorganMDW, Currybean, IcyWaters, PhantomProducer, snowspell, angelgrl, NinjaTerra, AngelVamp6688, Itsgoose2u, Speakfire, Draceline, vampyfreak, Skattebasse, firemage23, vesperlynds, cjhar, SuoSopuli28, sax97 **__and __**comiccrazygothgirl**__. I apologize if I missed anyone!_

_Thanks!_

_**Bex **_


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Pairing: Steve/Beth (the waitress, it's on her nametag, I swear!), allusions to others.

Summary: He probably won't ever read the letter and that's okay with Beth, it really is. Because all she wants to do is thank him. Post Avengers. Steve/Beth (the waitress)

Author's Note: Post Avengers, will contain some spoilers for the movie. I hope you all like it. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks for taking the time to read! Also, I apologize in advance for any mistakes!

* * *

Sincerely

Part 5

"_The __meeting__ of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed.__"_

Carl Gustav Jung

* * *

He's on a plane to Russia faster than he can process. He knows that there is a terrorism group that is harboring nuclear weapons and is planning on_ unleashing_ them; apparently the Chitauri invasion was the catalyst for organizations to proceed with world domination and annihilation.

Natasha is upfront flying the aircraft, switching back and forth between Russian and English. She's growing agitated, he can sense this in her voice. Or maybe that's just how she sounds when she speaks Russian. Bruce and Tony are conversing with each other, each talking science, which Steve barely pays attention to. Clint is sitting close to Natasha, elbows balanced on his knees as he looks at her talking into the earpiece. He chuckles at some spots, shakes his head at others and every now and then Natasha and Clint exchange exasperated looks. Thor is talking to Jane through an earpiece, smiling and laughing.

And Steve? Well, Steve is staring at his hands and thinking about the letter that he didn't send. The rational part of him is telling him that _he doesn't need to send letters_, that Beth really shouldn't _expect_ letters from him all the time…but there is another part of him, larger and stronger that knows he should have done _something_ to send the letter. He should do something to let her know that he hasn't forgotten her. That he won't abandon her. He won't leave her.

Then he thinks that he's becoming too attached to a woman that he barely knows and hardly remembers. Except, that's not exactly true is it? He _does_ know her. He knows her likes, dislikes, frustrations, fears. He knows about her nightmares and he knows that when she likes someone she loves them, in that she'll defend them until her breath runs out. He knows that she likes writing letters. That she values friendship and companionship. Steve knows that she values_ him_.

So, no, Beth doesn't know him like Bucky knew him. She doesn't even know him like Peggy knew him. The scrawny little kid from Brooklyn that Bucky knew is dead and gone. The Captain America that Peggy knew froze and died over seventy years ago. Beth knows _him_. Beth knows the Captain America he is now. She knows the _Steve Rogers _he is now. (He thinks that's even better because Beth knows all three versions of Steve).

Natasha's voice cuts through his thoughts, "ETA half-hour. Hang on to your seats guys, this is going to be bumpy."

"So," Tony says conversely, "Exactly what is our plan here?"

"Save the world, Stark. And try not to get yourself shot at and/or killed. These guys…well, they fight dirty." Natasha replies as she presses buttons and sits up straighter.

"Great." Bruce mumbles, "so, no plan?"

"Friend Bruce!" Thor rumbles, "we need no plan. We will fight and win."

"Thor's right." Steve says, clearing his throat. "We fought and won an alien invasion. We can fight and win against a Russian terrorist group."

"We need therapy." Clint grumbles. He doesn't mean it; he has a small smile on his face.

"Could you imagine us in group therapy?" Bruce asks sincerely.

There is silence before Tony snorts and starts laughing. Slowly but surely, as the plane descends into the depths of Siberia, everyone is laughing.

(Steve thinks of this moment; he thinks of Beth and her letters when he floats in and out of consciousnesses. All he can see is red. _The color of blood_ he thinks before everything goes black).

* * *

_Dear Steve, _

_Are you okay? Did something happen? Not that you have to answer that. I know there are aspects of your life that we can't talk about and so far I've been pretty good at sidestepping this topic, but are you all right? It's not like you to not write me back. _

_Not that you have to. God, does this make me sound like a possessive girlfriend? Because I'm not. Possessive that is. Or your girlfriend. Well I mean, I'm a girl, who's your friend, so I suppose I'm your girlfriend but not your girlfriend. Does that make any sense?_

_I just want to know you're okay. _

_Sincerely, _

_Beth Williams. _

* * *

_Dear Steve, _

_You haven't answered back yet. I'm getting worried. Just let me know you're okay. I need to know that everything is okay with you. I need to know that you're okay. You're probably training some kids to be future heroes right? Because in my mind that's what you're doing. In my mind you're surrounded by people who appreciate you. _

_In my mind you're safe. _

_Please be safe. _

_Sincerely, _

_Beth Williams_

* * *

She's been on edge for the last couple of days. Her heart beats faster. Her nerves are shot. She's scatter-brained, easily lost in thought and distracted. She's started biting her nails again (_sorry grandma_) and she's dropped at least four plates in the last forty-eight hours. Her boss is worried about her. Her co-workers are worried about her.

_Beth_ is worried about _Steve_.

It's not like him to leave her letters unanswered. She knows that he's not even collecting them because she sees her previous letter in its same spot, underneath the rock that weighs it down to the cold hard ground. There is a feeling in her gut every time she walks past it and places another letter to the pile. Something tells her that something is wrong. That something isn't right with Steve.

_Or maybe you're overreacting,_ her mind tells her, _he's a superhero, he's Captain America, what would he want with an art history major?_

Except that's not true is it? He's not Captain America to her, at least not anymore. He's _Steve_. He's the man who loves the Dodgers and he believes in her one hundred percent. She knows his likes, dislikes, doubts. Even if he doesn't voice them, even if he doesn't tell her outright, Beth has always been a clever girl, she can read in-between the lines.

He's awkwardly out of place and Beth has never been in place and they both found each other.

Besides, if he wanted to end their correspondence, he'd tell her, politely of course, because that is what Steve is, he's polite. He's a complete gentleman.

She's worried; of course she's worried, because she doesn't know anything about where he is or what he's doing or if he's even alive. _Oh God,_ that thought sends her heart reeling down into her stomach. She breathes in deeply, tries to ignore the hundreds of thoughts racing through her mind and concentrates on her job.

(All she wants is a hint, a little knowledge that he's okay, he's fine, he's _safe_).

* * *

She's putting up the chairs in the diner when she sees it on television.

"_In other words,"_ the newscaster says, her voice somber and face serious, _"the Avengers,"_ Beth's head pops up as soon as the words leave the woman's mouth, _"were caught in a deadly cross-fire in Russia. The reason for them being there is unknown and we don't have much detail about what went on in the compound, but we do know that Captain America has been gravely injured. Dean Alphonce is our correspondence, Dean, explain to me and our viewers what is going on."_

Beth tunes out what he says, doesn't even listen to what he does and doesn't know. No, her eyes are glued to the television, where there is short grainy footage of Black Widow and Hawkeye dragging Steve to safety, the Black Widow shouting orders, the Hulk is roaring in the background, Iron Man is flying overhead and Thor is clearing the way for them to get onto the helicopter.

But Beth's eyes are glued to Steve. _Steve _who is hanging limply between two of his teammates._ Steve_ who is so pale. _Steve_ who leaving a trail of blood.

(Beth forgets to breathe. She forgets to think. All she can do is watch with growing horror as the feeling in the pit of her stomach gnaws and grows).

* * *

_Dear Steve, _

_I saw what happened on the news. I don't know everything that happened. I don't even think I want to know everything that happened. I just want you to get better. _

_Please get better. The world needs you. I need you. _

_Sincerely, _

_Beth Williams_

* * *

Beth is working the next day. She feels like a robot, going through the actions that are familiar to her, but never actually thinking about what she's doing. She tries to keep herself busy because if she doesn't then she thinks about Steve and she thinks about all the blood she saw on television.

It's almost halfway into her shift when one of her co-workers comes to her, eyes wide and tells her that table seven asked for her specifically. Beth nods and makes her way to table seven. She plasters on a smile, grabs her notebook and clicks her pen. "Hi, my name is Beth, I'll be your waitress this after-_ohmyGod_." She actually takes the time to look up from her notebook to see who is sitting at the table.

The woman is painfully stunning, even with bruises and abrasions on her face. She has a blank expression on her face, but Beth can see the slight amusement in her eyes and her short red hair is perfectly in place. "Beth Williams, correct?" She has a husky but commanding voice.

Beth nods. "You're the Black Widow."

"Natasha is fine." Natasha studies her, scrutinizes her, "have a seat."

Beth looks back at her boss who nods quickly, as if terrified of denying anything the Black Widow requests. Beth slides onto the seat across from her and folds her hands on her lap.

"What do you want with Captain America?" Natasha asks, leaning forward on her elbows, her face hard and serious. _Is she always so serious?_ Beth wonders idly.

Beth frowns, "I don't want anything to do with _Captain America_." Beth calms her beating heart and mimics Natasha's stance, "How's Steve? Is he okay? Is he getting better? I saw it on the news…I just, want to know that he's okay."

"Captain America _is_ Steve." The redhead says, "how can you say that you want nothing to do with Captain America but you're so worried about Steve."

Beth shakes her head. "No. _Steve_ is _Steve_. He is the man who makes up Captain America. Captain America is a huge part of who Steve is, but he isn't everything Steve is. I am friends with _Steve_. Not Captain America. I thanked Captain America for saving my life and in his place I found Steve."

Natasha leans back in her chair, eyes still studying her. Then with a small sigh, almost inaudible from the red head's lips, and a curt nod of her head, she stands up. Natasha looks to the side and gestures to her boss, "I'm taking Beth for the rest of the afternoon." She doesn't even give her boss time to answer. "Miss Williams, come with me please."

Beth knows her face is contorted with fright. "Why?"

"Because _Steve_ has been asking for you."

Beth doesn't even bother changing out of her uniform; she just grabs her bag and follows as the Black Widow leads.

* * *

They don't talk. Soon Beth is taken through twists and turns, in and out of various buildings and retinal scans, finger printing, and pass codes; every spy movie she was subjected to with her brother comes to her mind as they make their way through this labyrinth of technology.

They finally step into a bright hallway with steel doors on every side. "This way, Miss Williams." Natasha says.

"Beth." She croaks. "Just Beth."

Natasha doesn't say anything she just leads her down the hallway and past numerous people. Beth is pretty sure that she sees Tony Stark and Bruce Banner in one room. Thor and a petite brunette locked in an embrace at the end of the hallway. She turns the corner that Natasha does, her eyes taking in everything, her mind not quite believing everything she sees.

They stop at a closed door and Natasha turns her head just a fraction and Beth sees a small (very small) smile flit across her face. She opens the door and the first thing Beth sees is an intimidating black man with an eye patch. The man lets out an audible sigh, shakes his head and stares at Beth. Then he steps aside and Beth's eyes are on the man on the makeshift hospital bed. He has gauze wrapped around his abdomen and there are various bruises molting his body.

She doesn't know what's being said, all she can do is stare at him. He looks exactly like she remembers but she can see how tired he is. How _lonely_ he is and her heart aches for him. She doesn't even realize the other two have left the room until the door slams shut behind her. She jolts and then offers him a large smile, her eyes wide and watering with unshed tears. "Hi." She says, "I don't think we've officially met. I'm Beth Williams."

The smile she's rewarded with is breath taking. He looks so boyish, so young, smiling like that. "Hi. My name is Steve Rogers." His voice rumbles throughout the room and it makes her weak in the knees. He sticks out his hand and Beth shakes it. "Nice to meet you."

* * *

_So, you guys are probably going to hate me, but remember when I said there were going to be three more chapters? This is kind of the second to last chapter. The next chapter will sort of bring some things together and also, an epilogue of sorts. Hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter. I have to admit, I don't know much about the Captain America comics, I don't really know his physical weaknesses, so I want to apologize if I didn't stay true to the comics. I also want to apologize if anyone is offended that I might have mucked up the comics. I tried to do as much research as possible but man, there's so much, yeah. So, that's why I didn't mention how he got hurt, I'll leave that up to your imaginations! I just didn't want to actually say anything and it be false. Does this make sense? I hope it does. _

_Anyways, **HUGE SHOUTOUT** to my **AMAZING REVIEWERS**!: __**Speakfire, kazd, snowspell, Theresa Nolan, It'sFun2BCrazy, Clevernugget, Itsgoose2u, AtomicFire, ILoveIUBB, vampyfreak, BlackRoseSophie, Icanhazjoy, NinjaTerra, PhantomProducer, IcyWaters, KelpBass, Draceline, garnet86, SuoSopuli28, Anonymous Heavy on the Anon **__and__** comiccrazygothgirl.**__ Your guys' support means everything to me! I apologize if I missed anyone!_

_Thanks!_

_**Bex**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing._

_**Pairing:** Steve/Beth (the waitress, it's on her nametag, I swear!), allusions to others._

_**Summary:** He probably won't ever read the letter and that's okay with Beth, it really is. Because all she wants to do is thank him. Post Avengers. Steve/Beth (the waitress)_

_**Author's Note**: okay, this is it folks. Wow. It's been great, you guys have been great. Seriously, I am so grateful to all of you! **WARNING:** This is fluffy. Like complete corny and some of you may not like it but this has always been the way I've seen this story end when I decided to continue with it, so I'm hoping that you all like it because we've come so far, so here's to hoping, I didn't manage to screw this up too badly. Also, I apologize in advance for any mistakes!_

* * *

Sincerely

Part 6

…_Love is not love_

_Which alters when it alteration finds _

_Or bends with the remover to remove _

_O no! it is an ever-fixed mark _

_That looks on tempests and is never shaken _

_It is the star to every wandering bark _

_Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken _

_Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks _

_Within his bending sickle's compass come _

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks _

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom…_

William Shakespeare – _Sonnet 116_

* * *

"So, you're technically a seventy year old genetically modified human?" Beth asks slowly. She's trying to wrap her head around what he's telling her. Trying to come to terms with _what_ he's confessing to her.

He smiles and it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's leaning against the pillows but Beth can see by the way he moves, the way he breathes, the way he talks, that he's regaining his strength. Which is kind of astounding because if he were anyone else, they would still be unconscious. Or dead. But he's Steve (he's Captain America) and he's not like _everyone else_. "It's a lot to take in, I know, and I apologize-"

Beth cuts him off, "You need to stop apologizing."

He frowns, "What?"

"You've apologized _five times_ in the last _hour_ I've been here with you. Steve…you need to stop apologizing for who you are. It's weird, yes, _of course_ it's weird. You're like…every superhero movie my brother made me watch personified. And it's probably going to take me a while to get used to all of this, if I'm even allowed to get used to this- _oh God_, is that big guy with the eye patch that was here earlier, going to have me killed? Because I mean, I survived an alien invasion, thanks to you, so it would really suck if I died because I know too much."

This time when Steve smiles, it does reach his eyes. "No one is going to kill you. I think you're going to be around for a while."

Beth lets out an exaggerated breath and then giggles; she covers her mouth and shakes her head, strands of blonde hair falling in her face. "This is surreal, right? I mean, you're _you _and I'm _me_ and we're _here_."

Steve is silent for a few moments and then he grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers so that she doesn't know where she begins and he ends. "But…it feels right. I…"

"Don't feel so lonely anymore?" She finishes quietly. "Me too."

They sit in compatible silence after that. Beth stays awake and she watches as Steve slowly drifts off into sleep. She settles herself into the chair, trying to find a comfortable position and she lets out a deep sigh. She closes her eyes, and relaxes, unaware of how exhausted she is.

(She remembers thinking about how young Steve looks when he sleeps and how this feels _so right_, before she succumbs to sleep herself).

* * *

_Dear Steve, _

_I believe this is the start of something great. Also, I've become really attached to writing you letters. Is it okay if we still continue? _

_Sincerely, _

_Beth Williams_

* * *

_Dear Beth, _

_I would not want it any other way. _

_Sincerely, _

_Steve_

* * *

_Epilogue _

_3 years later _

A year into their friendship, they start to become something more. It almost feels like a natural step. Like it was something they were meant to do all along. They keep it quiet at first, but it doesn't take him long to realize that you can't hide things from your family (and this is exactly what the Avengers have become, his _family_).

They tease him most of the time but they do it out of love. Steve knows this. Steve also knows that they like Beth. Natasha teaches her self-defense. Tony and Bruce try to teach her about science but she always tells them that she's an art history major and _this is way over my head_, Clint brings her back little trinkets from the countries they save (half the time they don't even know when he has the time to buy the stuff he does, all they know is that Beth squeals with delight every time he gives her something), Thor offers to take her to Asgard (Beth politely declines, saying that it isn't pretty when she flies from New York to Tacoma, _so how would I even begin to fare on an inter-galactic trip?_ Jane tries to convince her otherwise but to no avail), Pepper is her rock, the only other person in their group that knows what it's like to wait with fear in the pit of her stomach. Fury, well, Fury, despite not admitting it, he likes Beth too. Steve knows this because after Beth will talk to him, he'll shoo her off and when he thinks no one is looking, he'll smirk, one good eye glinting with amusement.

It's been a tough couple of days. One that has exhausted every single one of them. Steve has never been a fan of hot places and Japan in the summer is not only hot but it's_ humid_. They were thrown around and bruised by the mad nuclear scientist and his band of serum charged mercenaries but they were victorious in the end.

And here they are, tired, a little bit cranky and eager to get home.

"Headed to the lady, Cap?" Clint asks him. He winces a little as he moves his arm.

Steve nods, "Yeah, I'm on my way home."

"Nice. Tasha and I will probably be up sometime tomorrow night. Hey, have you guys decided on anything yet?"

There is an excitement building in Steve's stomach, every fiber of his being comes alive, he can feel himself smiling, feel the tiredness that was once evident, ebb away. He shakes his head, "Nothing concrete. I'm sure she's come up with a list though."

Clint smiles, "Then get on home Steve. Beth's waiting for you."

* * *

It's late by the time he finally gets to the loft. It's dark inside as he walks in quietly. He can smell the aroma of food that lingers in the air and the faint smell of cinnamon. He takes off his shoes, shrugs off his jacket and pulls over his shirt as he follows the familiar path to their room.

He smiles softly, his heart swelling at the sight of her. The bedside lamp is on, she's curled on her side and there is a box next to her. Steve knows the box; it's the one that holds _all_ of their letters. _Three_ years of letters are in that box, wrapped up in a bright yellow ribbon that holds them all together. Beth always has the habit of bringing out the box when he's gone.

Steve grabs the box and places it on the bureau against the wall. He slides into bed, letting out a deep sigh. He closes the gap between them, bundling her in his arms. He kisses her head as his arms wrapping around her protruding stomach. He feels a strong kick and he blinks.

"He's glad you're back." She says hoarsely, her voice raspy from sleep.

He buries his head into her shoulder. "I'm glad I'm back too. Tasha and Clint are coming over tomorrow."

"Which means everyone else will too." She says.

He can't see her face but he knows there's a hint of a smile. "Probably." He feels another strong kick and he frowns, "How have you been? Is everything all right?"

She chuckles, "Everything is fine. The doctor says he's developing normally and that he'll be strong and healthy." There's silence before she speaks again, "so, I've got a suggestion for a name."

"Really?" He asks teasingly, "Because Tony and Bruce love calling our kid _Captain Junior_."

She snorts and shakes her head. "God, those two remind me of children. But no seriously…what do you think about James Philip Rogers? We can call him JP for short."

Steve's throat closes up. He feels his heart constrict. "I love it." He says and he really does, he can't think of a better name than the ones of the two men who believed in him completely.

And _this is it_. They've finally put a name to their son and why does this make everything _so real_ of a sudden? He's consumed with thoughts of what could happen. What if something happens to him? How will Beth react? How will their son react? What if something happens to Beth and JP? What if Steve doesn't know how to be a father? What's it going to look like to their son when he sees his mother age and his father stay the same age forever? What if their son resents him for being Captain America?

"Steve?" Beth calls out; her hands intertwine with his so that when he looks at them he doesn't know where she begins and he ends. "Stop thinking so loud. Everything is going to be fine. _We're_ going to be _okay_."

He nods and kisses her head again, "yeah, we're going to be just fine."

He falls asleep like this, head buried into Beth's shoulders, hands intertwined and clasped protectively over her stomach, their box of letters situated on the bureau, chronicling the years that have passed and waiting for the years to come.

* * *

_Dear Steve, _

_I love you._

_Sincerely, _

_Beth Williams_

* * *

_Dear Beth, _

_I love you too. _

_Sincerely, _

_Steve_

* * *

_Pure fluff. God, I think this is one of the fluffiest things I've ever written. So, there it is. The end of Beth/Steve. What do you guys think? I am actually quite happy about the way it turned out. Then again, I'm pretty biased. Lol. Let me know what you think._

_But WOW. OMG, I want to send out the BIGGEST SHOUTOUT to my REVIEWERS, you guys are amazing. I have been so overwhelmed with the response to this story. I can't thank you guys enough, seriously, just WOW: **Spiffymac0617, Speakfire, PrentissMysteryChallenge, thecatchisdeadliest, PhantomProducer, garnet86, DarkRulerKida, Imaginemeruler, KelpBass, Arrows The Wolf, LiebenMadchen, Anonymous Heavy on the Anon, HellsTheTwerd, Itsgoose2u, snowspell, NinjaTerra, kazd, Blinding Firefly, Icy Waters, Draceline, SuoSopuli28, Jen Lennon, , comiccrazygothgirl, InvaderIvy, BlackRoseSophie** and **Marskatr**. If I missed anyone, I apologize greatly and seriously, thank you to everyone who reviewed, read, favorited, alerted, anything and everything. Your support means the world to me!_

_Thanks again and much love,_

**_Bex._**


End file.
